


Loverboy

by srmutter6811



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Assistant Marco, Grayromantic Marco, Implied Sexual Content, M/M, Model Jean, Photographer Levi, Plenty of sexual tension tho, photography!au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-09
Updated: 2021-01-09
Packaged: 2021-03-12 18:41:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,182
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28640181
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/srmutter6811/pseuds/srmutter6811
Summary: Marco is just an average assistant for Levi Ackerman, but when one of the models fails to show up for the shoot, Marco has to work with Jean, a snarky, beautiful model. He's fairly certain he'll never see Jean again, but after an emergency sends Marco to a session without Levi, he's proven to be very, very wrong.
Relationships: Marco Bott/Jean Kirstein
Comments: 2
Kudos: 14
Collections: JeanMarco Gift Exchange 2020





	Loverboy

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Android18](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Android18/gifts).



> Happy Holidays!! I loved the prompts, but this had to be my favorite. Hope you enjoy!
> 
> Disclaimer: I know nothing about photography, so please don't come for my life :)))

"Son of a bitch," I muttered to myself when I dropped my keys for the third time. I was meeting Historia for coffee like we always did, and at the rate I was going, I was gonna be late-- _ again. _ I leaned down and scooped them up. "Stop making it difficult."

Surprisingly, the offending keys don't answer, but they didn't fall out of my hands again, so I took that as a sign that they were listening. 

By some miracle, I made it to the subway station right on time. The distance between my apartment and the cafe wasn’t a bad walk, but I  _ hated _ walking in the cold even more than I hated paying for subway fare. 

The Rose Cafe was probably one of my favorite places in the city. It was quaint without being cheesy or cliche--probably due to the fact the building was over a hundred years old and made of red brick, a far cry from the majority of other buildings in town. The now-empty flower boxes of the corner building overflowed with colorful flowers in the spring and summer, and the French doors helped create a bright, welcoming atmosphere. Inside, there was a mural on one of the walls that depicted a meadow with rolling hills, wildflowers, and miles of bright, blue skies. The only downside to all the windows was the fact that it was quite cold in the winter, but the pros far outweighed the cons. 

Historia and I found the Rose Cafe when we were in college. It wasn’t long after we’d signed our lease a few blocks away, actually. I was stumbling home from a party one night and passed the cafe. I remembered thinking,  _ Historia would probably like this _ , before I blacked out and miraculously ended up in my own bed the next morning. We’d been going back ever since. 

The second I walked into the doors, Historia’s head popped up from our corner booth. She smiled and waved, and I slid into the spot right across from her as she pushed a cup in my direction. A vanilla latte--my favorite. Bless her soul. 

“You’re actually on time,” she said with a grin. 

“Gee, don’t sound too impressed,” I deadpanned as I dropped my bag in the far end of the booth.

She placed her hands over one of mine and gave me one of her  _ I’m gonna be honest with you, and you’re not gonna like it, but I mean this in the nicest way possible _ looks. “Marco, you’re  _ shit _ when it comes to soft deadlines.”

I narrowed my eyes at her. “You’re right, but you shouldn’t say it.”

She patted twice and pulled back. “I gotta keep you in line. I promised--”

“--my sister, yeah yeah.” Sometimes I regretted introducing Historia to my sister when we were in college--especially when Historia tried to use her as an excuse to mom me. Ymir was out of the country representing the company she worked for at the moment, and that meant she left Historia in charge of me. It didn’t matter how many times I told her that was fucking pointless since we were the same age. It was like talking to the wall next to me. “How’re you two doing, anyway?”

Her eyes lit up. “Amazing! I was on the phone with her last night, actually, and…”

Conversation flowed freely for about half an hour. We chit-chatted about work and the weather and what our parents and other friends were up to. It was pretty standard for our Tuesday morning routine. Other than the occasional weekend, this was our time to catch up--no working, no social media, just coffee and conversation. 

She was finishing up with a story when I realized I’d finished my latte. When she was done, I excused myself with the promise of getting her another one too. Thankfully, the line wasn’t long, and I was able to place and pay for our orders in a few minutes. 

As I waited on the other end, my eyes strayed to a new barista working the espresso machine. He was tall and lanky with dark hair and defined arms that looked pretty damn good with his sleeves rolled partially up his forearms. He glanced up as he slid my drink across the counter and smirked a little when he saw me staring. I blushed and scurried away with a mumbled thank you.

Historia pinned me with another look--a different, much more suggestive one--when I returned with our drinks. “Do my eyes deceive me, or was that barista giving you eyes? Did you get his number?”

I shook my head with equal parts exasperation and amusement. I’d come out to her a long time ago as grayromantic, and I knew she was only teasing me. We both knew that no matter how open I was to dating, it was hard for me to find people I felt genuinely attracted to. “No, Tory.”

“Nothing wrong with sampling the merchandise.” She winked as she flicked her hair behind her shoulder and grabbed her iced coffee with a perfectly manicured hand. “One of these days, the perfect man is gonna fall out of the sky. Mark my words.”

I laughed out loud. “Right. When it starts raining men, I’ll give you a call.”

She raised an eyebrow. “What use do I have for a man? Ymir’s--”

“La la la la la!” I slapped my hands over my ears. “I can’t hear you!”

She stomped my foot under the table so hard I nearly fell out of the booth. 

* * *

A few hours later, I was setting up photography equipment in a penthouse suite at a hotel downtown per Levi Ackerman’s request. We were going to be shooting a pair of models wearing a new line of clothing by Erwin Smith, an up and coming designer. The shoot wasn’t for another hour so I wasn’t really in a hurry, but I’d feel better if I had it all set up sooner rather than later.

I was almost done when I heard a sharp, “Are you fucking kidding me?” come from across the spacious living room. When I turned around, Levi was coming into the room, phone gripped in his hand. 

“Is everything okay?” I asked.

He looked at his phone like he couldn’t decide if he wanted to throw it through the window or not. “One of our models hasn’t been answering the phone all. Fucking. Day. Doesn’t that brat know that if he doesn’t show up, we don’t get paid?”

Well, that was unfortunate. “We have one model, right? Can we make do with them?”

“Erwin specifically requested that there be two people.” He pinched the bridge of his nose and looked like he was mentally counting to a hundred. I didn’t know a whole lot about my boss’s past, but I was willing to bet my next paycheck on the fact that he used to be in anger management. “If this kid doesn’t show up in the next twenty minutes…”

I blinked as he listed off some  _ very _ interesting threats, half of it in French--which I didn’t speak a lick of. After he slipped into speaking only in French, I turned around and kept working. It was always best to keep a low profile when Levi got like this. I didn’t want to be his next victim. 

I surveyed my work a few minutes later and decided I needed to go get another light from the van. The elevator ride down was pretentiously long--fucking rich people, man; did they  _ really _ need an apartment that far up in the air?--but that just meant less time with my royally pissed-off boss. 

The air was bitterly cold when I stepped outside the building, and the sky looked much grayer than when I went in the building. I wouldn’t be surprised if there were a few inches of snow on the ground by the time we were done. 

Rubbing my hands together, I ran for the van and yanked the doors open. Luckily, one of the lights was sitting on top of the various props we kept in there, and I was able to grab it and scram. I decided I’d rather hang out with Levi than spend another second out here without a coat. 

The second I got in the building I heaved a sigh of relief at the warmth, but I still had to keep my hands under my armpits for the whole ride up. 

When I stepped off the elevator, I could hear voices coming from the living room. I glanced up at Levi and his companion when I walked in on the way to my setup, but I abruptly halted when I saw who it was. 

It was obviously our model--one of them anyway--and Jesus, he was  _ hot _ . I was used to being around pretty people, but they all paled in comparison. He had on a navy blue knit sweater, a pair of slacks with a black and white checkered pattern so small they looked almost gray, and a pair of shiny, caramel dress shoes on. To top it off, a black newsboy hat was artfully resting on his ashy blonde hair. He stood casually as he listened to Levi, a hand holding his opposite elbow.

He must’ve heard me come in because his tawny eyes flicked up to look at me, and I fucking  _ dropped the light _ .

My heart flew into my throat, and I snatched it out of thin air with some random ass Spiderman reflexes. My cheeks and ears flushed when I saw the model bite his lip a cough into his hand to hide a laugh. 

Levi turned around and narrowed his eyes at me. “You didn’t just drop that, did you?”

“N-no, sir!” I held it with an iron grip.  _ Fuck me _ that was so close. 

“Good because that shit’s expensive, and if it breaks, it’s coming out of your paycheck.”

I gulped. “Nothing happened, I promise.”

He stared at me for another second before he turned back to the model, and I almost passed out with relief. 

I kept my head down as I set up the light, mostly to hide my still-red face. I couldn’t believe I’d almost damaged Levi’s equipment over a pretty face. What was I in seventh grade or something? 

When I glanced up, Levi and the model were staring right at me. Before I could look away, Levi beckoned me over. 

I warily set down the light and walked over.  _ This can’t be good. _

“Marco, have you ever done any modeling before?”

I blinked. “I’m sorry?”

Levi made a face. “I know you ain’t deaf, kid.”

“N-no, sir.”

“Well, you’re about to. Go get dressed.” Without another word, he stalked out of the room. 

I could only stare after him, completely dumbstruck. There wasn’t  _ anybody else _ we could contact about this? I was  _ hardly _ qualified to be doing this, and besides, I wasn’t that good-looking. I’d been told that I was plain, and if it weren’t for all my freckles, nobody would ever notice me. (Granted, an ex told me that when he broke up with me, but  _ still _ .)

“If you keep your mouth open much longer, something is liable to fly in.” 

I closed my mouth and peeled my eyes away from the door to see the model looking at me with a smirk and a quirked brow. 

“What the hell just happened?” I asked weakly.

“I believe you just got a promotion.” 

“Do you think I can tell him I don’t want it?” I was already resigning myself to my fate.

He gave me a pitying look, and the very last dregs of hope were crushed. “I’ve known him for approximately five minutes, and I can confidently say he’ll skin you alive if you refuse.”

“Fuck.”

He stuck out his hand, stifling a smile. “Name’s Jean. I look forward to working with you.”

I stared at it for a second before I reached out and shook it. His nails were perfectly filed, and his skin was warm and soft. Perfect, freckle-free model hands. “Marco. I’ll try not to fuck it up too bad.”

Jean laughed and slapped a hand on my shoulder to steer me away. “I’ll help you. Now c’mon, we gotta go get you ready.”

* * *

Half an hour later, I was stiffly walking out into the living room. I’d just gotten done with our  _ eccentric _ beauty technician, Hanji, and my head was still spinning. From the moment I sat down in their chair, they were chattering nonstop and bouncing around the room like a fart in a skillet. 

As much as I liked their work--my hair has never looked this good since… well,  _ ever _ \--I felt funny. Like a doll being dressed up. I was  _ definitely _ not doing this again. If Levi needed another model again, I was gonna tell him, no, and he could deal with it.

That's what I told myself, at least.

Levi turned around and scrutinized me when I walked in. He made a motion with his hand for me to spin around. I did so slowly. Dammit, I wish I wasn’t in a sweater. That’s why it was hot, right? Not because my very critical, very artistic boss was deciding if I was good enough. Ha ha ha ha no, that totally wasn’t it. 

“Not bad, Bodt,” he said after a second. “We’re starting in five.” And he was gone again. 

I gingerly sat down on the couch, careful not to wrinkle my clothes. The sheer wave of relief that went through me was… kind of embarrassing. I couldn’t believe I’d come to rely on his opinion so much since I’d started working for him. 

“Not bad? I’d say you look  _ damn _ good.”

Scratch that. It was embarrassing how much  _ Jean’s _ opinion mattered to me. I’d only known the guy for an hour! 

I pinched the hem between my fingers and looked up at him. He was staring down at me with his hands in his pockets. “You think so?”

“I know so. If I didn’t know better, I’d say you were a model too.”

“Th-thanks.” My face flushed, and I prayed that the foundation Hanji put on me was enough to hide it. “You don’t look too bad yourself.” Jesus Christ, Marco. The man posed for cameras for a living _ of course _ he looked good.

He grinned deviously as if he knew what I was thinking. “Thanks, loverboy.”

Levi called for us, and I knew there must’ve been a god because he’d just saved me from making an even bigger fool of myself. 

The shoot was a bit of a blur if I’m being honest. One second I was sitting on the couch with my legs crossed, the next I was leaned against the window with the city behind me, and the next I was posed with Jean and pretending to laugh. I couldn’t even tell you how many outfits I changed into. 

Even though the whole thing went by really fast it was strangely fun. It was easy to follow Levi’s directions, and Jean had a way of poking and prodding me until I was posed perfectly without even realizing it. I’d only ever been on the other side of the camera, but I was starting to think it wouldn’t be so bad to be on the other side every once in a while. 

And I didn’t think it was possible, but Jean was even more attractive in his element. He posed with such ease and confidence that I wondered if he was simply born to do it. Sometimes he’d catch me staring from across the room, and instead of looking away, he’d arch a perfectly groomed eyebrow as if daring me to break eye contact. 

By the time we were done, Levi was in a considerably better mood. He clicked through the photos and nodded to himself. I could already tell he was deciding what edits he was going to make to them, but judging by the relaxed set of his shoulders, he wasn’t too worried about it. 

Jean hovered as I started to pack up our equipment. It was kind of endearing to see him stand there wondering if he should help. I finally took pity on him and waved him over. “Wanna help me take down some equipment?”

“Sure!” He bounded over like an excited puppy. “What do I do?”

I showed him step-by-step how to take down the light I was working on, and he watched intensely. “Can you hold this bag open?”

He did as he was told, and as I slipped the light in, our hands brushed. My eyes flickered up to his, and for a moment, it felt like we were the only ones in the room. The golden light from the sunset cast over his face, and I noticed that his eyes were a bright, whiskey color. 

“You have really pretty eyes,” I blurted out. My eyes widened. “Fuck, I didn’t mean that. Shit, wait, yes I  _ did _ , b-but--”

Jean threw his head back and laughed. “Thank you. I get that a lot.”

Right. Model. “Why are you helping me?” I asked. That was safe, right? Nothing embarrassing about that. “People usually just leave when they’re done.”

He shrugged and zipped up the bag for me. “You look like you could use some company.”

I looked down to hide a smile. “It certainly doesn’t hurt.”

He set the bag to the side. “Alright, boss. Now what?”

I nodded toward another light. “Go ahead and tear that one down. And please for the love of God be careful.” 

We both glanced at Levi who was still looking through some pictures thoughtfully and then back at each other. “Yeah, I can do that,” he assured me. 

By the time we got done, Levi’d packed up his laptop and camera, and the three of us headed down the elevator, arms loaded with stuff. The weather hadn’t gotten any better, but I was wearing a coat this time. Still, the handle of the van was so cold it burned against my hand as I quickly yanked it open. 

Levi started the van and cranked the heat while Jean and I loaded it up. We worked in tandem, as efficiently as if we’d been doing it together for years instead of a day. It also helped that we were both cold as shit and wanted to get done as quickly as possible. 

“So…” he drawled as I put the last bit of equipment in the van and shut the door. I looked at him expectantly. He shoved his hands in his pockets and shuffled on his feet, cheeks slightly pink. “Marco, are you--”

“Where the  _ fuck _ have you been you  _ stupid fu _ \--”

“I’m so sorry!” somebody, Eren the other model, I assumed, yelled as he sprinted toward us. “My car broke down, and--” 

Levi was so livid his eye started twitching. What came out of his mouth was so unholy my brain blocked it out for my own safety--and that was just the beginning. 

Eren stood there looking put-out, but he didn’t try to defend himself.

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen him so docile,” Jean murmured, elbowing me. 

I’d never met the kid in my life, so I couldn’t really comment. “I think that’s my cue to leave.” I rubbed the back of my neck. “What were you saying earlier?”

He opened his mouth for a second before he shut it and smiled. “Nothing. I’ll see you around?”

I couldn’t help but feel disappointed. I was too shy to ask for his number, and I didn’t want to intrude. Why would a whole ass model give a photographer’s assistant his number? Yeah, I’d embarrassed myself enough for one day. “Of course. Stay warm.”

I inched away as quietly as I could. I didn’t envy Eren in the slightest, especially not since people were starting to gather to watch the spectacle. The poor guy looked like he wanted the ground to eat him up. I didn’t blame him. 

When I looked back to see where Jean went, he was already gone.

* * *

“You just…  _ let him go _ ?” Historia demanded.

I twirled my mug around. “Um, yeah? What part of he’s a model and I’m a nobody are you not understanding?”

She facepalmed. “God dammit, Marco. He was totally into you!”

“How the hell would you know? You weren’t even there!”

“When a ‘somebody’ helps out a ‘nobody’--I think that’s bullshit, just so you know--it means they  _ like _ you. Why are you so dense?”

I sniffed indignantly. “I’m not dense, he was just being nice.”

Historia looked at me for a long-suffering moment. “You know who else thought somebody was just ‘being nice’? Your sister when I was aggressively flirting with her at the bookstore.”

They’d told me the story a million times. Ymir was a bit of a bookworm, and she’d stumbled across the bookstore where Historia worked before I’d had a chance to introduce them. As soon as she’d seen my friend, she went back as often as she could. Apparently, Historia had been laying on the charm as soon as she’d seen my sister, but Ymir is  _ extremely _ dense and didn’t notice for, like, four whole months. 

“At least I know it runs in the family,” she muttered, finishing off her coffee. 

“Hey,” I whined. “You’re not supposed to bully me!”

“Somebody has to!” She stood up and gathered up her things before checking her watch. “I gotta go to work. Next time, try not to be so thick-skulled and ask him out.” As she left she ruffled my hair and told me to call her later. 

“But there won’t be a next time,” I said to the now-empty other side of the table before I groaned and rubbed my face. Maybe it was for the better.

* * *

One month later, I was getting ready when I got a phone call from my boss. “Marco.”

“Hi, Levi. Is everything okay?”

“No, I need you to go and do the photoshoot without me.”

I almost dropped my phone. The world had to be ending. “What? Why?”

“My appendix burst and I’m in the emergency room. I know you’re capable of doing the shoot--you’ve been with me long enough. Just don’t break any of my shit. Got it?”

I gaped, unsure if I should be flattered that he trusted me that much or terrified that I was going to be representing him. 

He groaned in pain over the line. “Look, kid. I don’t got all day. If you can’t do it--”

“No! No, sir, I can do it. You can count on me.”

“Make me proud.” And he hung up.

“Shit.” I pulled the phone away from my face and stared at it. “ _ Shit _ . Okay, okay. I can do this.” I looked at my reflection, finished tucking in my button-down, and nodded. “Yeah, I can do this!”

* * *

“Fuck me, I can’t do this,” I said, looking down at the text Levi sent me with the details for the shoot. A lady next to me shot me a dirty glare and pulled her kid closer, but I hardly noticed. The good news: I was going to be seeing Jean again. The bad news: it was a shoot for men’s lingerie.

“I hate my life,” I muttered, but that was definitely a lie. Things were looking pretty good all things considered. I knew the model, I knew he was going to be easy to work with, and I was going to be seeing much,  _ much _ more of him than last time.

No! That was a bad thing! If I nearly dropped some equipment from looking at his face, how the hell was I supposed to hold a camera if I could see his dick? Not to mention it would be  _ totally _ unprofessional to get a hard-on in the middle of a shoot. 

God, I was screwed. 

I made my way to where the shoot was taking place in a daze and set up all the equipment using muscle memory alone. By the time I was done, I was ahead of schedule, so I went across the street to grab a coffee.  _ Surely _ dumping caffeine into my system would help me out. 

_ You’re being dramatic. You’ll be fine, _ I told myself as I watched the barista start working on my drink.  _ As long as you stay professional and don’t say anything stupid, you’ll be fine _ .

“Just stay professional,” I said as I crossed the street and went into the building. “Don’t say anything weird or stupid. You don’t even have to look anywhere but his face.” I slumped into a chair and pinched the bridge of my nose. “Just look at his eyes, and stay professional.”

“Nice pep talk.”

When I say I jumped, I mean I  _ literally _ jumped out of my chair and spilled hot coffee all over my hand. “ _ What the fuck is wrong with you? _ ” I screeched as I set my coffee down and dug in my bag for napkins. 

Jean--fully dressed in street clothes--started laughing so hard he slid down the wall behind him into a heap on the floor. Literal tears were running out of his eyes as my face absolutely burned. So much for staying professional. 

“I  _ hate _ you.”

“Holy  _ shit _ you should’ve seen your face!” he choked out when he could finally breathe. His face was red as he swiped away tears. 

“Yeah,  _ so fucking funny. _ I probably have second-degree burns now, so thanks for that.”

Jean dragged himself up off the floor and approached me slowly--still giggling a little--as if he thought I’d beat the shit out of him. Honestly, if I didn’t have to take pictures of him soon, I would have. “Okay, okay. I’m sorry. Can I see your hand?”

I glared at him for a few moments before I finally caved and held my hand out to him. 

His fingers were cool to the touch as he turned my hand this way and that. “Looks like you’re gonna be able to keep it.”

“Gee thanks, Doc,” I seethed as I pulled my hand back. 

“Anytime!” he chirped. “Though, you really should’ve gotten me one too.”

I stared at him for a long moment, debating if I wanted to knee him in the groin or throw my remaining coffee in his face. “You’re really something else.”

“Thanks, I get that a lot.” He grinned again and stepped back. “I’ll go get changed and we can start.”

I nodded, tongue suddenly in knots again as I watched him leave. As I waited for him, I messed with the sheets and pillows on the bed to make them look slept in… among other things.

Moments later, Jean was back with a black robe tied around his body. “Ready?”

“Yep. Go ahead and get on the bed,” I said evenly, thanking every deity I knew that my voice hadn’t cracked. 

Jean reached up and tugged on the rope around his waist until it was untied and slid the robe open to reveal a pair of tight lace boxers. “Want me to keep the robe on for a few shots?”

I nodded, not trusting my voice. 

He did as he was told and got up on the bed, arranging the robe artfully around himself. I lifted the camera to my face, took a deep breath to calm myself, and started taking pictures. 

Just like last time, he was a natural and moved from one pose to the next until I had a decent amount. I was beyond grateful Jean knew the right ways to pose. I’d done my own amateur photoshoots before, but it’d been a long time, and I’d never had to do it with the sole purpose of taking pictures of clothing--or lack thereof. 

“Good.” I lowered the camera and stepped back to grab my coffee. Jean jumped off the bed and leaned down to scoop up the robe, and I got a nice view of his toned ass covered in black lace. “Whenever you’re ready for the next pair,” I said, but my voice cracked at the end.

I quickly averted my gaze and started clicking through the pictures I just took to avoid having to look at him, but I could feel him looking at me for a few seconds. Finally, he slid the robe on and left the room.

A few moments later, Jean returned and looked at me. “Good?”

I nodded. “Yep, whenever you’re ready.”

This time when he undid the robe, he did it a little slower. I reveled in the sight of his collarbones, tummy, and thighs. He was in a rich red thong that pressed into his hips. I allowed myself to stare only when he was looking away from me. 

He did his poses, I told him when I had enough, and when he left to try on the next thing, I worked to compose myself. We repeated this cycle, but every time Jean had to disrobe, he did so slower and slower, and he didn’t take his eyes off me ever. I clenched my jaw and waited for him to be ready before I took his picture, but it was getting increasingly hotter as the afternoon went on. Where was the fucking thermostat in this place?

When it was starting to get completely unbearable, he came out and said, “Last one.”

I had to stop myself from breathing a sigh of relief. I wasn’t sure how much more of this I could take. 

Just like all the other times, he looked at me as he slipped his robe off, but he bit his lip when I saw that it was nothing but a tiny strip of fabric made of fishnets that left literally nothing to the imagination. 

_ Please don’t get a hard-on in front of the model, Marco. He's doing his job. Have a little dignity. _

I worked quickly to take the shots, but it still seemed like it was taking years. Jean took his time shifting around on the bed, and I had to roll my eyes to the ceiling when he flipped over and subtly pushed his ass up.

“Okay, we’re done!” I exclaimed as I drained the last of my coffee and threw the cup away. Between the caffeine and the stress and tension in my body, I was half a second from ascending to another plane. “We got a ton of good shots. Levi’s not gonna kill me.”

“Marco.”

I paused what I was doing and turned around to see Jean sitting on the edge of the bed. It was a struggle to keep my eyes from trailing down his frame. “Yeah?”

“Am I reading into this too much?”

I swallowed thickly. “I-into what?”

He gestured all around vaguely. “Into  _ this _ . Don’t tell me I’m not the only one that can feel all this sexual tension. Unless I’m sensing things that aren’t there, then, by all means, tell me, but you’ve been making eyes at me this whole session--and not in a photographer way either.”

Fuck me. So much for staying professional. I set Levi’s camera down on the counter before I could do something stupid like drop it. “No,” I began carefully. “I know what you mean, but I didn’t want to assume anything since you’re a model, and posing is your  _ job _ . And it was never my intention to make you uncomfortable.”

He bit his lip and fluttered his pretty lashes at me. “Well, I can assure you I'm far from uncomfortable--and I don’t make bedroom eyes at just any photographer that takes pictures of me half-naked.”

“Oh, so I’m special then?” I teased with a sudden burst of confidence, allowing myself to fully drink him in. The fishnets look beyond amazing on him, and I had to urge to take another picture of him like this: slightly hunched over on the bed, eyes sultry, head tilted to show off the delicate length of his neck, knees splayed open slightly.

“Yes.” He ran a hand up his inner thigh and paused to press his fingertips into his skin enough to make shallow depressions. “Are you gonna come over here and show me how much you liked my show or do I have to reward myself?”

My cock twitched excitedly in my pants, and I moved as if I were being pulled by an invisible string until I was standing right in front of him. I sank to my knees and lifted my hands up until they were hovering over his thighs, and I looked up at him for permission to touch him.

He bit his lip and nodded, sighing softly when I pushed his knees further to the side. I leaned forward until my mouth was mere inches from his slowly hardening cock and glanced up. “You’re sure?”

“Marco,” he ground out. “Please, for the love of god jus-- _ ohhh _ .”

He was cut off mid-sentence when I pulled the underwear down enough to pull him out and took him into my mouth as much as I could.

It’d been a fat minute since I’d given head, but it was just like riding a bike, I thought, looking up and seeing Jean’s eyes cross as his hand flew to grip my hair when I firmly rubbed my tongue against the underside. You never forget how to do it. 

* * *

Later that night I sat on my couch and stared up at the ceiling feeling sated. Jean was as good in bed as he was beautiful, that was for damn sure. I couldn’t even tell you how long it took us to get out of there when we got done, but he stayed again and helped me pack up which I found way more endearing than I should’ve.

Not only that but when I looked through the shots, I saw that they were all better than I remembered. Needless to say, I was more than excited to get them to Levi. (Speaking of which, I probably should call to see if he was still alive.)

Swinging my legs around, I stood up and moved to the kitchen where I poured myself a drink and fiddled with the scrap of paper I'd thrown down. Ten digits followed by three words were penned in surprisingly neat cursive: Call me, loverboy.

I bit my lip for a second before I decided fuck it and dialed the number. It rang so many times I almost hung up, but at the last second, a voice said, "Hello?"

"Um, h-hi. Is this Jean? It's Marco."

I could hear his grin over the line. "Mmm, I'd know that sweet voice anywhere. You gonna tell me what to do some more?"

I spun my glass around and laughed. "If I recall correctly  _ you're  _ the one who kept telling  _ me _ what to do."

He gasped. "Marco, are you insinuating that I'm  _ bossy _ ?"

"No, not at all," I replied breezily. "Just spoiled."

"Oh, you know it, baby."

I snorted at the pet name. "Look, I actually called because I wanted to know if you might wanna go out to dinner sometime? I mean, I know you're probably busy, and you--"

"Yes."

"You… yes?" I stopped spinning my glass, and the whiskey--the same color as Jean's eyes--kept swirling around. "Really?"

He laughed. "Yes, idiot. Pick me up Friday at 7, got it?"

I couldn't help the smile that split my face. "I can do that. Oh, but can you do something for me?"

"More orders? I thought I was the bossy one."

I pitched my voice lower. "Wear the red thong."

He hummed appreciatively. "Now  _ that _ I can do. I'll even wear the matching garter belt."

"The matching… garter belt?" I asked faintly.

"See you then!" And he hung up.

I pulled the phone away from my ear and stared at it for a second. Sometimes it was frustrating living in a world where romance was constantly pushed as the end all be all--especially since I couldn't feel that type of connection with people no matter how hard I tried--but every once in a while I found somebody that made my heart skip a beat and all those stupid songs and movies and holidays made sense for a brief moment. This was one of those times.

I dialed another number, but the person on the other end answered almost instantly. "Hey, Marco. What's up?"

"Historia, you're not gonna believe this, but I have a date on Friday…"

* * *

The pictures of Jean came out so good, Levi gave me a raise, but he also berated me for sleeping with a model on the job. It was nowhere near as bad as the "talking-to" he gave Eren that one day, but it was still enough to scare the daylights out of me.

When I told Jean about it a few days later, he looked sheepish. "Was that supposed to be a secret?"

I almost beat the shit out of him.


End file.
